


Take Me Home

by ad_astra42



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, In-Laws, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Wedding Fluff, babies ever after
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ad_astra42/pseuds/ad_astra42
Summary: Post ME3 Shepard and Vakarian and their well-earned happy ending. The Fluffiest of Marshmallow Fluff.
Relationships: Female Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Home For Me is Where You Are

Garrus nuzzled into the back of his sleeping mate’s neck, relishing the familiar scent that was now integral to his existence. The loose fibers of her auburn hair tickled against the underside of his face, wisping idly with each languid breath. The best start to a day he could possibly imagine, one that he’d come uncomfortably close to never experiencing again. That fact still haunted his subconscious even these few months after getting her back. He flexed his arm as it was draped around her, while yet exercising restraint. His instinct was to compress her close into him, grip her tightly until the painful emotional echoes of what could have been, what almost was, left his thoughts. Reassure himself physically that this was real. But, no. She was still recovering from her ordeal, and he needed to be careful with her despite her dismissive opinions otherwise. It wasn’t so terribly long ago that he was sure he’d held her for the last time. That he’d forced himself to accept that outcome. 

Trying to maintain the impossible hope of the both of them overcoming an impossible, existential threat, and then losing her anyway, that would have killed him all on its own.

As he shifted to a slightly more comfortable position that wasn’t compressing the nerves in his other arm, she made a soft humming noise. The sun was just starting to peer in at them through the window. It glinted off her smooth skin, over the spray of freckles on her shoulder and the tattoos that obscured even more beneath. Her traced a light finger over the marks, appreciating them as one more small but significant detail that made her who she was. The majority of her lacerations and bruises were nearly invisible now, healed almost completely. But those had been the least of her injuries. She’d been in the hospital for longer than she’d been recovering here in the home they’d been granted to use as their own for the indefinite future.

“‘S’it morning already?” she mumbled into her pillow, eyes not yet open. He smoothed down the wilder strands of her hair before pressing his forehead against the back of her head.

“Not for you. Rest.”

“I’ve been resting,” she yawned, “for something like four months now.”

“Nearly,” Garrus yielded. “But it’s not like we have any pressing business.”

She made a ‘hmph’ through which he could hear her smile. He curled a hand around one of hers, knowing better than to think even he could keep Commander Shepard down for anything if she had other ideas. But he was obligated to try if he thought she needed it. That was his primary function, not on orders from anyone else but himself.

She heaved a deep sigh and started to gingerly wriggle her way to turning herself over until she was facing him. He reflexively urged her against his chest, and she chuckled in the back of her throat. He propped his chin atop the crown of her head and rumbled a content response. Her form melted against his, just as hungry for his nearness as he was for hers. The love of his life.

His mate.

Humans tended to romanticize such things, finding one’s ‘better half,’ their ‘person.’ Not so much for turians. Stories of great romances were relatively uncommon among his people and tended to emphasize those lovers who shared a battlefield or sacrificed themselves for one another. Such stories had always struck Garrus as more like exaggerated tales than realistic aspirations. But here he was. Here they were.

“Five more minutes won’t hurt,” he suggested in a hushed whisper.

“There are things we could be doing,” Shepard groaned against his throat as though she didn’t like the idea any better than he did.

“That’s a noble thought. But I think we’ve both done more than enough. For now, at the very least.”

Shepard pulled her head back and turned her face up to his. He didn’t even need to look back down at her to know what look she was giving him. The arched brow, the smirking grin. She had his number. Despite his arguments otherwise, he himself had been keeping plenty busy. His work had mostly involved putting in hours of long-distance consulting at the desk terminal while Shepard slept. Helping coordinate relief efforts, taking care of the various Earth-related errands Primarch Victus threw his way, strategizing reconstruction triage. This and that. He propped his chin gently but firmly down against her forehead and closed his eyes to avoid acknowledging the look. His preferential response to her calling him out.

After a bit he felt her grazing soft kisses against the sensitive flesh at the top of his throat and under his chin. He hummed an appreciative noise, flexing his hands over the fabric of her cotton shirt. She started to add in tentative little nibbles, drawing little lines on his hide with the tip of her tongue in between. Sinking her fingers into the crevices between certain plates he’d identified to her as minor erogenous zones. That seemed ages ago, but had really only been little more than a year back. It only took a half minute or so of her teasing before she was triggering familiar responses in his body that she had to know full well she was setting off. His right hand was finding its way down her left side of its own accord before he knew it, coming to a stop at her hip, sliding under the hem of her garment and giving her a gentle squeeze. Then he remembered himself. As interested as he was in her leading him down this path, he allowed himself only another few seconds of the sensual attention before pulling back from it.

Garrus gazed down at her face, her strangely lovely face, caressing her cheekbone with the backs of his fingers to mitigate the rejection. She frowned just a little.

“Sorry.” She slid her hand over his, twining their fingers, and shifted her pelvis just so. “Not feeling up to it?”

Of course he was. He wanted it like he’d just crossed a Palaveni desert and she was the only source of water for a thousand kilometers. They hadn’t had the opportunity to be intimate since shortly before the final push back in London. Before she’d touched his face and declared her love to him, and then promptly left him behind. The moment his heart had told him was probably his last chance, and he’d better return the sentiment already before he regretted it the rest of his miserable life. But now the worst hadn’t come to pass, and he had her here again, and presumably always would. Even so, he didn’t feel comfortable taking even small risks, not yet.

“You’re still recovering,” he murmured regretfully. Her injuries, and their required remedies, had been extensive, and he’d been at her side every step of the way. He was deeply familiar with how far she’d come, and how far she had left to go. She gave him another of her familiar looks, the somewhat more serious ‘do not bullshit me, Officer Vakarian’ face. Tipping her chin down and staring at him sternly from under her eyebrows. The name he’d given that one owed to the fact that his familiarization with the expression had preceded their romantic relationship, and his more extensive familiarity with her facial expressions. The actual point at which he’d assigned the label was fuzzy, but he knew for sure it originated well before he’d ever realized she’d started flirting with him. Said flirting, by her account, had begun a good while before she’d made it obvious enough for him to pick up on it.

“I’m less than a week from officially being able to resume light activity,” she asserted. She smoothed her hand over his face, and he nuzzled into it welcomingly. “We can take it slow.”

“Hrm,” he grumbled. She had him there, not that he was a hard sell. “We could do that. And believe me, I’d like to. But I think I’d feel better about getting the all-clear from your specialists before inadvertently setting back your progress.”

She smirked at him again and chuckled in disbelief. “Since when is Garrus Vakarian all about an overabundance of caution?”

A few possible moments came to mind. Since their first intimate experience together, right before heading into the Omega 4 Relay? Since the day on the Citadel when they had made their relationship official? Or from the life-changing moment outside the Normandy cargo bay when he'd been forced to let her go? It was hard to settle on just one. But he couldn’t really deny it had happened.

Since you.

“What do you say I make it up to you by cooking breakfast?” he asked, deflecting. Getting dressed and standing up would help quell the parts of him that were already siding with Shepard.

She sighed through a resigned smile. “Start with coffee and we have a deal.”

Garrus had been getting rather good at cooking Earth food, if he did say so himself. Especially for someone whose sense of taste didn’t compare particularly well to hers. It did help that he tended to be a quick study. He also had a very important motivation: keeping his human partner well fed and in as good of health as possible. He had made his share of blunders but didn’t tend to make them twice, and Shepard was nothing if not forgiving of his flaws. In fact, he’d been challenging himself by asking her to keep him apprised of whenever she craved some new dish, so he could try his hand at it. It was a little stressful when she would tell him to surprise her, but only because he knew she’d give anything he prepared for her a brave go at finishing it, whether she genuinely enjoyed it or not. If only to encourage him.

Left to his own devices, he preferred working with meat and protein products, as they were closest to what he was used to himself. He attentively watched Shepard shuffling her way down the stairs from the bedroom, limping only slightly now, until she slipped into the bathroom. Then he went to the refrigerator and pulled out everything he needed and got a pot of levo coffee going before turning on the stovetop. He switched on the local news for background noise as he worked, putting careful effort into each step of his process.

As he finished up her bacon and eggs, he caught sight of Shepard entering the kitchen. Her hair was still damp from the shower, strands hanging like limp, wavy tendrils around her neck and shoulders. She barely even needed to use the counters and furniture as auxiliary walking support anymore, as she acclimated to the biotech prosthesis that had replaced her original left leg. He knew better than to offer his help or do anything to draw attention to it, in spite of his overprotective instincts. 

He was just plating her meal when she slid up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face into one side of his carapace. He lifted his arm and turned, sliding her under it so he could return the embrace with his free arm.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly into his tunic.

“You know me,” he replied tenderly. “Always have to have something to do.”

“I mean...about all of this. Taking care of me. Accepting help isn’t something I’m too well known for, but I appreciate everything you’ve been doing. So. Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said, deliberately not making a big deal out of it though her words were touching. The coffee pot made the wet crackling noise that indicated it was finished filling, and he reached past her to pour her a mug. As he did so, she lifted onto her toes to kiss the side of his face and carried her plate herself over to one of the stools by the counter. He dug himself out a ready-to-eat meal, the only kind of cuisine widely obtainable for a dextro-chirality individual like him here on Earth. The Heirarchy and the Quarian Flotilla were actively mobilizing to get a better supply line going for the nutritional needs of those of their combined races still stranded out here. But the first priority was making sure people didn’t starve, not to cater to preferential whims. Things could be far, far worse than a steady supply of shelf-stable, decently palatable food.

Breakfast was quiet, both of them browsing their omnitools to keep up with the constant flow of news updates and exchanging commentary about various breaking stories. The galaxy was in rough shape, as bad as it had ever been in the entirety of living memory, but every species was proactively working in concert to help it heal. And Shepard was a big part of the reason why. Garrus might have wished he could be out there doing more, but in the end helping to rehabilitate the Savior of the Galaxy was an essential task in and of itself. He couldn’t easily count the number of times he’d been told by friends and strangers to ‘take care of her.’ His answer was always the same: I will.

After they’d finished eating, Shepard made her way over to the couch. Garrus followed, sitting up so she could lie across his lap for a few minutes while their food settled. She began to compliment how far his culinary skills had come, and then her face wrinkled as her attention was drawn by something else. He looked down at her as she mumbled a curse and irritably tinkered with some setting on her prosthetic through her omnitool. She’d been doing steadily better with it, though not at any kind of pace that could have satisfied her. It would be a long time before she was back to where she had once been. To the Shepard he’d known and grown to love these past few years. In the back of his head, Garrus knew that there was a non-zero chance that she may never actually quite get there. That, for all she’d come through in top form, technology and medicine had their limits. Knowing his mate, she wasn’t about to settle for that outcome, but unlike her, he had the luxury of not caring what level of functionality she ended up at. He would still be here for Shepard, right behind her as always.

The galaxy hadn’t ended. He was hers, and she was his. That was all that really mattered anymore, was all that he needed to be true.

“Garrus?”

“Hm?” He realized he’d been staring out the window at the enormous, forested mountains in the distance as he stroked at her hair on autopilot. He blinked down at her as she interrupted his thoughts, his every fiber instantly at the ready to do whatever it was she might ask of him. 

She drew lines over his tunic with her fingernails, over the lines she’d memorized of where seams of plates met. She was hesitating, not something she did often, not really at all in the past several weeks they’d been living out here. It put him a little on edge, like there could be something to shatter his delusion that everything was going to be all right now.

“I was just thinking about something you said. Back in London.”

His gizzard clenched, and he squeezed his free hand unconsciously in on itself. Bracing. “We don’t have to relive any of that right now, Shepard.” 

Or ever, for all he cared. Which he didn’t.

“No, I mean…” she breathed steadily, thoughtfully, her fingers continuing to idly slide over the textured fabric. He tried not to fidget, sitting perfectly still and waiting. “I mean when you talked about us…possibly starting a family.”

His heart stopped for a brief moment, then restarted again as the flood of pessimistic worries ebbed away. Then his burst of relief in turn quickly gave way to a different kind of uncertainty. His pulse was now running at half again what it had been before. His thoughts evaporated into the aether; their return precipitated on what was on her mind. He’d been so busy thinking about everything else, that a conversation from what felt like an eternity ago hadn’t crossed his mind since.

“Yeah?”

“I wasn’t sure if….” She frowned, then relaxed her face, her piercing green eyes seeking up at his. “Was that just the existential dread talking, or did you mean it?”

He gazed at her a moment, then stared out the picture window again, caressing her shoulder through muscle memory while he ran the question over in his head. He hadn’t thought much about what he’d said before it had come out of his mouth, in all honesty. Talk of alien hybrid babies was a silly proposition to begin with. In retrospect it was an attempt at comedic relief that had sounded stupid as soon as he’d said it. 

In reality, he wasn’t sure he’d actually ever really considered the logistics of becoming a parent before then. Before her. Before London. It was one of those things most people seemed to know inherently, whether they wanted to do it or not, turian or otherwise. In his own case, it had just been something always far distant on some unknown horizon, an issue he could always address later. In all honesty, after not having the greatest relationship with his dad for a long time, the concept of his own hypothetical fatherhood hadn’t been all that alluring. Losing his mom not terribly long ago hadn’t helped. So no, he hadn’t been planning on bringing up kids to Shepard when he had. But, even if it had initially come out as a half-hearted joke, Shepard’s positive response had meant something to him. He wasn’t sure of what just yet, but he certainly wasn’t ready to reject the idea.

He looked down at her again. “Is that...something you want?”

Shepard was quiet for a while, still playing with the seams of his shirt. 

“When I was...up there. When Anderson was gone, and things were looking...bleak. I thought about everything I was going to miss out on. The thing that hit me the worst, besides not coming back to you, was losing our future. Missing out on our chance to make those kinds of mundane, normal choices. Now we can. And…I’d like to.”

“Shepard,” Garrus replied, starting as a dry, bare whisper before clearing his throat and speaking up. “You still have a ways to go before we ought to be worrying about that. You and the whole galaxy.”

“We’re just at the hypothetical stage,” she replied wistfully. “I’m not saying right this second. I just think it would be nice to talk about it, see where we both are. For later.”

“Hm,” Garrus replied noncommittally and glanced over at the digital wall clock. There were a few things they did need to keep on-schedule for. They had about twenty minutes before the next step of their morning routine. That might give him enough time to sort his thoughts out first. “Tell you what. I’ll get this all cleaned up and we can talk about it while we’re out. Sound good?”

Shepard half-smiled and sat up, pulling herself close to him until their foreheads touched. A gesture that filled him with warmth and appreciation.

“Works for me.”


	2. Right Behind You

Garrus set about cleaning up the kitchen mess, and Shepard went to assist him without a word. The house they’d been living in for the past couple of months was an odd mix of quaint and luxurious. It was spacious, with tall ceilings and an open floor plan, and outfitted with all manner of top-of-the-line amenities. But to Garrus’ amazement, the structure was mostly made out of wood and rough stone. Its grandeur wasn’t all that surprising given that it had been a luxury vacation rental prior to the invasion, one of many ‘thank you gifts’ they’d received from just the Alliance. It was among the relatively small percentage of homes that hadn’t been touched by the Reaper attack, owing to its generally rural location out in the Canadian forests near what Shepard called a ‘national park.’ The isolated location also meant they could go outside and roam about freely, not only without the potential of being accosted by well-meaning visitors but also because this general area was relatively free of detritus and not burned to a smoking ruin, as most of the larger population centers had been. 

It was cooler here than he’d have liked in normal circumstances, but for the time being he had a set of thermal clothing to ward off the chill. Besides, performing his domestic duties was infinitely more important than his own petty discomforts. On the orders of her physical therapist, Shepard was to take at least two daily walks of at least thirty minutes to aid in her prosthetic acclimation, and he certainly wasn’t going to sit by while she went out alone. Shepard’s preferred trail was decently challenging in terms of terrain, and led up to a turquoise-colored lake where she’d like to wade before the fall weather had solidly set in. They’d worked her up to at least double the recommended time since starting a month ago. Needless to say, he was proud of her, and not at all surprised that she was pushing herself well beyond expectations.

Shepard was waiting for him outside when he came out onto the deck. As soon as she saw him her face split open into a broad, goofy grin. He sighed. It was the hat. It formed a solid cover over his crest and the sides of his face, a necessity if he wanted to not be completely miserable in weather a little under eight degrees. The first time she’d seen him in it was also after the first snow of the oncoming winter, and she’d held back guffaws behind her hands to his initial confusion as to what was so funny. Even after a couple of weeks, it clearly still amused her. He didn’t mind, not really, especially since he didn’t often see her smile quite that big. He still intended to return the teasing whenever it got cold enough that she needed a hat of her own. Tell her how cozy and cute she looked. See how she liked it.

Garrus held onto her hand as they walked, the affection of it being a useful excuse to be ready to provide any needed corrections in her balance that might spring up. It didn’t occur often, but not yet never. They ambled in silent rapport for the first few minutes, Garrus patiently allowing Shepard the prerogative to start the conversation.

“Well,” she sighed after they reached the first incline. “I suppose talking about this only matters as long as you haven’t become totally opposed to the idea.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “Been a little distracted, sure. But I’m definitely all right with feeling it out. If I recall correctly, you didn’t think we’d get away with any cross-biological shenanigans. Though I do know a couple of Salarians just crazy enough to try new things if you change your mind.”

Shepard laughed and maneuvered a careful step over a large, knotted root growing through the trail. “I suppose we could keep that in our pocket in case everything else fails to work out. I guess I should get it out of the way now that I don’t really see myself going through a pregnancy. I wouldn’t want to find out halfway through that my body decided not to cooperate after everything I’ve put it through.”

“Fair,” he agreed, and couldn’t help but linger on the image for a little while. To his surprise, there was something about it that did ultimately appeal to his instincts. She was his mate, after all, and reproduction was a deep-seated biological imperative. Maybe this was something he really did want, after all, even if it wasn’t going to happen any sort of conventional way. As he ruminated, Shepard leaned into him, sending her pleasantly radiating heat through his arm.

“What would you say turian babies are like?” she asked. Garrus had to pause and gather his thoughts.

“I can’t say I’ve had much experience in that arena, other than when Sol was born. Even then I was only about ten. I kind of ignored her for the first year or so. Wasn’t really old enough to see her as much but an annoyance. I do have an idea of how basic care and feeding goes, that’s not too complicated. They start being mobile pretty early, maybe around a couple of months. Walking around half a year. And they’re bitey. Really bitey.”

Shepard snorted a laugh. “‘Bitey’?”

His forearm twinged with a phantom pain, recalling his firsthand experience. “Oh, definitely. As soon as Sol could walk, she couldn’t get enough of tracking me down to chew on me. Wouldn’t leave me alone. Baby teeth are even sharper than adult teeth, and our plates don’t fully harden until adulthood, so she drew blood at least a few times. That’s definitely worth consideration, given that would do a lot more damage to you than me.”

“Nothing we couldn’t work around, though,” Shepard was lightly smiling out ahead of them.

“I suppose there’s that. Okay. So, what about human infants?”

“Not all that much different, I guess. Crawling and walking a little later. There is biting, sometimes, but then they don’t start out with teeth. Feeding is a little different, a stage of a liquid diet before starting solids. And from what I hear, sleep can be a challenge.”

“Mm. I suspect that’s true for most species,” Garrus acknowledged with a wry smile. “Want me to see what the extranet says about krogan young, next? I’m sure Wrex has plenty of them running around by now. We could smuggle one off Tuchanka. I doubt he’d even notice.”

Shepard smirked at him. “As fun as that might be, I suspect them taking forty or fifty years to reach maturity would be a serious issue.”

“I know it doesn’t feel like it, but we’re not that old,” Garrus ribbed her. He himself was only now staring down thirty, Shepard having about three years on him. He felt exceptionally grateful that they at least weren’t going to have to worry about disparate life expectancies. If all went well, they could be looking forward to a century or more together. 

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t mind having a more reasonable window for getting them raised and out on their own. Plus, think of the home repair bills. No insurance company would cover us.”

“Hmh. You make a good point. So, sticking to what we know, it is.”

She smiled up at him again, looking almost sly. “Is that a roundabout way of saying you’re up for it?”

He returned her look. He could remember a time only a few years back when he’d seen her as a figure of admiration, someone to model himself after, and couldn’t have conceived of a romantic relationship happening with her. Then, just such a proposition was sprung on him. He’d hesitated, worried over it, and initially only reluctantly decided to give it a go. Then, once he’d acclimated to the idea, he’d charged right in with vigor. Doing so had been the best thing he’d ever done with his life, and the most unexpected. This new proposition, starting a family with her, was beginning to give him the same sort of vibe.

The objections to parenthood that had first manifested in him were the same sort of misgivings he’d had about being with Shepard to begin with. What if he messed up? What if he let himself be vulnerable, only to lose everything? And, spirits, he almost had. But even then, at his lowest moment when he didn’t know whether Shepard had survived, he wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. That was the instant he knew for sure his desires for their future. He squeezed her hand.

“You know what? I think it was.”

They spent the rest of their walk working out some of the more foundational details. They agreed to wait a few years at least, until enough basic infrastructure had been rebuilt and the state of the galaxy was reasonably stable again. They’d also need to come to an agreement on where they’d be making a more permanent residence, whether it be a dextro or levo planet, or possibly the compromise of setting up on a ship the way Shepard had grown up. As they reached the front porch once again, Shepard pulled back on his arm to stop him before he could open the door. He eyed the handle longingly, ready to retreat back into the warmth and comfort of indoors, but he acquiesced to her.

“There’s something else. It’s not time-sensitive or anything, but I was thought it would be something nice to do, for us.”

Before he could probe for clarification, she’d drawn a small, plain, black box from her jacket pocket and pushed it into his hand. Her movements were a bit mechanical, as though something about it were making her nervous, and that atmosphere started to bleed into him a little.

“What is it?”

“Just open it,” she urged with a tight smile. With his moderately numbing fingers, he did so as best he could. Shepard looked on intently. 

Inside the container, set into a plush, velvety backing, was a thin ring of a dark grey metal. As he studied it, he realized that there was the subtle sheen of a blue design encircling it. A replication of his colony markings. His eyes lingered on it for a few long seconds until the realization finally set in. There had been some Earth vid series they’d watched a while ago, and they’d come to a scene with some kind of bond-joining ceremony. Shepard had explained the cultural significance to him. He didn’t remember most of it, but he did recall that it had culminated in the exchange of a set of rings.

“It’s like you always say, no Shepard without Vakarian. So, I thought we ought to make Shepard-Vakarian official.”

He blinked at the ring, then at her. It was a gesture he found surprisingly touching. One of those simple things he didn’t see himself taking for granted again.

“Oh,” he replied. “Yeah, of course. I’d be happy to.”

Shepard stared into him a moment with a strange half-frown, half-smile, then coughed out a series of wry laughs. He frowned. “What?”

She took the box from him, drawing out the ring and taking his left hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

To his surprise, she selected his hind-finger and slid the ring onto it. It was a rather exact fit, telling him she must have taken the measurement covertly, probably while he was asleep. She’d been planning this for at least a little while. He thought back to the ceremony again.

“We’re doing it right now?” he asked, surprised. “I thought there was supposed to be a whole ritual for this, a party. Inviting family and friends?”

She laughed again, holding his hand tightly in hers. “This is the engagement, Garrus. You’re thinking of the wedding.”

“Hm,” he nodded once, still a little confused but glad for the clarification. Turian customs were far simpler, little more than submitting an application and registering for couple benefits. Sometimes there would be a small gathering of family and friends afterward to celebrate the union, but just as often there wasn’t. “Should I…get one for you, too?”

“If you want,” she shrugged. “Or we can pick it out together. There are traditions, but none of the ‘rules’ are as concrete as they used to be. We can do this however we want.”

“Works for me,” he replied, pulling her into an embrace, soaking in her warmth. “Think we could start by heading inside?”

“Sure thing,” Shepard chuckled.

A half hour later, a light snow started to fall and the outside temperatures began to dip a little with the slowly increasing wind. Not long after lunch, it was turning into a torrent of the white flakes, and after dinner it was dark and temperatures had dipped precipitously below zero. They judiciously cancelled their evening walk and probably the rest for the next few days, which didn’t break Garrus’ heart too much. The power grid out this way still hadn’t been restored, but for now they did have a small eezo-powered generator and solar panels that fed into batteries. Still, he was especially glad at times like this for the reliable fallback of a fireplace and the plentiful supply of pre-split logs just out back on the enclosed porch. He wondered if there would be a good time for him to suggest they eventually re-locate to Palaven, or at least somewhere on Earth less ridiculously frigid. Still, he did hold some not-insignificant appreciation for the experience of being huddled up on the couch with Shepard under a blanket, their safety and comfort defying the dissonant nastiness beyond the window.

The crackling noise of wood reacting to the intense heat. The soft music playing in the background as he stroked Shepard’s hair and occasionally glanced at the flickering light reflecting on her face. The peace of knowing the worst was all really all over now, that they could just have this. He could handle a little cold for that.

“Welp,” Shepard said. “I told my mom the news from this morning, and now she’s asking when she can come visit. Technically she said, ‘does that mean she finally gets to meet you already, since I haven’t introduced the two of you yet, and is it because I thought she’d have an issue with you being turian, because that’s ridiculous and I should know better.’ But. You get the gist.”

Garrus huffed a laugh. “Well, there was that war going on for a while there. But I’m perfectly fine with that. She’d probably appreciate if we do it before the ceremony, anyway.”

“Yeah,” Shepard agreed with a sigh, tapping out her response. Cross- galactic calls were still a ways off from being re-established, but there was still enough comm buoy functionality for deep space messaging, even if it took more time than usual. Shepard peered up at him. “Speaking of which, your family. Do you think your family will want to come here to meet, or would somewhere else be better?”

Garrus felt a small pit open up in his gut. Right. Introducing his mate to his father. To be fair, Castis knew quite a bit about Shepard already, but Garrus hadn’t quite broken the news to him or his sister that they were more than war comrades. It had just never quite been the right time. Sol would likely take it just fine, but he didn’t feel entirely comfortable on how his dad was going to react. Castis was about as old-school turian as they came, and though he’d never said anything in Garrus’ earshot that was blatantly xenophobic, he hadn’t had a long history of supporting Garrus’ personal decisions to begin with. He didn’t suspect the man would be altogether enthusiastic to hear that Garrus was partnered to a human, on top of everything else. It wasn’t a situation Garrus couldn’t handle, he just wasn’t too excited to face it. Especially if Shepard was present when it all went down. Both his father and Shepard were passionately stubborn in their own ways, and he could see that interaction going south in a hurry.

“I’ll check with them,” he replied to Shepard, then reached over and transferred a form he’d been working on through his omni-tool to a datapad. He handed it to Shepard. “By the way, in the spirit of making things official, I thought I’d take care of my end of things. I have it mostly filled out, you just have to check a few boxes, sign it biometrically, and then send it. Official registration with the central government on Palaven. Processing times are probably running a bit long, right now, but it’s a start.”

Shepard scrolled through the couple dozen pages of documents and started to grin a little. “This is getting turian ‘married’? Bureaucracy, filling out paperwork? No, wait. That makes total sense.”

Garrus thought about it while she pressed a thumbprint into each of the spaces indicated on the forms. “Well. You’re not wrong.”

“Wait. Are they seriously asking for permission to confirm my rank and service with the Alliance?”

“That’s optional,” he cleared his throat. “I doubt you’re ever going to need to procure basic living assistance. It’s a thing only available to those who’ve put in their minimum years of service or the interspecies equivalent. All civilians and their partners, plus minor children. I could always get mine if I ever really needed it, even if you didn’t qualify for your own. Which I’m pretty sure you would.”

“That’s…interesting,” she muttered, then craned her head back to smirk at him. “Should I just put down ‘I’m goddamn Commander Shepard,’ or would that be offensive?”

Garrus coughed a laugh. “Maybe don’t do that.”

“Killjoy,” she smirked and finished signing. She passed the datapad back to him and soon erupted into a deep yawn and a stretch.

“I was feeling inclined that way myself,” he agreed. “Shall we head to bed?”

Shepard smiled up at him in a blissful sort of sleepy haze. “Depends on what we’re doing when we get there.”

“Sleeping,” he replied, going for a gently chiding tone and not quite getting there. “Two more days won’t kill you, Shepard.”

“Killjoy,” she repeated with a grumbling edge to her voice. “And that’s Shepard-Vakarian to you.”

“Hmh,” he semi-chuckled. “We’ll see.”

While he did greatly appreciate the idea of that much more public acknowledgement of their bond, she had always been ‘Shepard’. Even now, while having since learned her first name and despite her insistence that she’d be altering the one he’d become accustomed to. Nothing else felt quite right. Maybe that would change, but he wouldn’t be too put out if it never did.

“Fine,” she finally caved, and gracefully allowed him to help her up and guided her back to their room.


	3. All of Your Pieces

Garrus was sitting in the clinic waiting room while Shepard finished up her assessments. She liked her privacy for these visits, which he’d always been happy to respect, and to be honest there were things he could be getting done rather than sitting in a waiting room for three hours. Today in particular. He’d dropped her off with a kiss and then headed back to the house to get things set up for special plans he had for later that afternoon. He’d even returned to the clinic with plenty of time to spare. He’d returned, with thirty-five minutes to spare, when he was startled by the angry flashing of a message notification from his omni-tool, marked urgent. He offered the other occupants of the room an apologetic glance over the strobing light before pulling it up and scanning the subject heading. He knew before seeing the sender that it was from Solana.

**S: How. DARE. You.**

He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth for a moment, then opened the message. It was more of the same.

**S: I realize you’re allergic to the concept of basic communication, but REALLY? Were you EVER going to bother mentioning your mate? Your MATE, Garrus??! Or am I supposed to believe that detail somehow slipped your mind EVERY SINGLE TIME we’ve messaged in the past four months?! ‘Oh, hey, by the way, there’s this person I’ve been dating.’ See?! EASY!**

The rest of the message was a compilation of colorful vulgarities that contrasted in a jarring juxtaposition with her default sign-off: _Regards- Solana Vakarian._

His heart raced heavy in his throat. How could she possibly have…oh no. Even though it would be months until it was processed, at best, the application itself would have become publicly searchable not long after submission. It was a practicality; giving notice to interested parties and all that. Solana probably had some sort of term search program, a common application that scanned the extranet for specific names or other criteria. It made sense that she’d have been keeping tabs on him, after everything. He’d used programs like it himself in the past, himself, but had somehow not even considered it. Fortunately for him, Shepard’s name wouldn’t have come up with his unless it had been searched for explicitly. He would still be able to break that bit of news on his own time. He typed out a measured response.

**G: I was going to tell you soon, I promise. It’s just been a little…complicated. I’m sorry. What did dad say?**

He hesitated, then sent it. It seemed an eternity and was actually about eleven minutes before getting her seething reply.

**_S: Complicated_ ** **. Like I don’t know what that really means. I haven’t said anything to Dad yet. But he’s an ex detective, genius. Even odds he already knows, too, and just hasn’t mentioned it. Reminds me of someone else I know.**

Garrus never enjoyed being compared to Castis, but he had to give her that one. He glanced at the time, then the door to the PT rooms. Shepard was in there getting what she’d been sure was going to be the news that she could return to normal activity, reducing the need for checkups to every month or so, meaning they could travel again. He also happened to know that she’d be more than glad to finally not be stuck in one place anymore.

**G: All right. I’ll own that. Listen, I’ve told her about you guys, and she really wants to meet you. I should be able to take a break from work soon. Just name the time and place.**

He tapped one toe against the carpet idly. During the war, dad and Solana had been evacuated from Palaven to a quarian ship that had been essentially transformed into a mobile refugee camp after the Geth allowed the quarians back to Rannoch. One of many phenomena that was thanks largely to Shepard, herself. But once the Reaper threat had ended, virtually all surviving Palaveni had returned to their ancestral home to get a head start on rebuilding. Garrus was one of the few exceptions, though not for lack of desire to be part of the movement. The home he and Sol had grown up in, dad had informed him, was long gone, as was Sol’s apartment. In fact, most buildings in cities larger than a few million in population had been obliterated. Garrus was both sorry he couldn’t be there with them right now, and glad that he wasn’t having to see the worst of the devastation firsthand every day. Either way, Shepard had needed him here. Palaven still had over five billion natives. Shepard only had one Garrus.

**S: I guess I understand if you don’t want to bring her here to the shanty city we’re calling home for now. I’ll talk to dad and let you know what he says. I guess I’ve never been to Earth. Must be really nice there, to keep you from coming home.**

Garrus scowled just a little, wanting to write her back and chide her. She could be as mad at him as she wanted. He deserved it. But taking it out on his reasons for being on Earth, and unknowingly Shepard by extension, was too far over the line. He ultimately managed to restrain himself. It would be good to take time to cool off before saying anything he’d regret. Once she met Shepard she’d understand, anyway, and come to regret lashing out all on her own. It would work itself out.

It wasn’t much longer before Shepard emerged. She came straight for him, her limp almost imperceptible at this point. Her face bore that weary kind of smile that he recognized as a mask she wore for his benefit. He stood and reached out for her hand, his heart sinking. There was bad news.

“You ready to head out?” she asked. He pulled her close out of habit, and she leaned into it without any sort of teasing deflection of his over-protective attitude. Oof.

“Sure.” He reached ahead to get the door. No use prying into her feelings until they had some privacy. “Anything you want to do in town, first? We could grab some takeout from that Asian fusion place you like. Ask them for fun about why they don’t have any dextro options.”

“I’m good,” Shepard exhaled in a way that didn’t sound good at all. He gave her the proverbial space she needed as they made their way together to the small town’s aircar port. There were a number of fans and onlookers obstructing their way. When it was only the two of them, it was easy to forget for a while that they had ascended to heroes of the galaxy, become universal icons. Shepard more so than himself, and honestly, she could have it. But how much more she was struggling right then to keep up the forced smile at every greeting and handshake was difficult to watch. He hurried their well-wishers along as quickly as he could while still being polite and friendly. Shepard’s de facto bodyguard-slash-PR guy, that was him. Add that to his running list of job descriptions.

Back at the aircar he helped her in before climbing into the driver’s seat. He didn’t turn it on right away, instead giving her the look that meant he knew something was up. She responded with a look that was meant to reassure him even though she didn’t bother smiling this time.

“It’s not a big deal. Really.”

“This is me, Shepard. I know better. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want. But. Well, we’re partners. We don’t need a certificate or forms for that to be true. If I can ever be of help, well, I’d like to be.”

“Yeah.” She sighed, staring out the front window. The weather had mildly eased again after the sudden storm, around half of the accumulated snow having melted off in the past few days. “You’re right. I _know_ you’re right. It just takes some getting used to. Not keeping everything to myself, dealing with it on my own. Being…vulnerable.”

“Huh. I wouldn’t have any idea what that must be like,” he snarked. She shot him a fierce little smirk. It was a nice break from the clouds. But then it evaporated away again, and she stared out at the towering mountains with a sigh.

“You already know how I wasn’t a candidate for a fully biological replacement. It took them too long to find me, I’ve already been modified a lot as it is...you get it. Well, I guess my body hasn’t been taking well to the prosthetic, either. Not rejecting it, exactly, but not really liking it. The healing’s been…slower than it should be. There are meds I could take to compensate, but those tend to nerf your immune system, and I’d have to be on them forever.”

“I mean, the quarians have a little experience in that area. Tali would love to lend her expertise.”

Shepard gave a weak, half-hearted smile at his joke, and he regretted making it. She looked down at where her hands were resting atop her thighs.

“So, I’m cleared for light activity, that’s the good news. Normal activity for most people, anyway. But beyond that…they couldn’t say. This could be as good as it gets. My therapist wants me to start accepting that I may never be where I was before, and…” she sighed and rubbed at her forehead. There may have been a more humid texture than usual to her eyes. “I wanted us to dance at our wedding, dammit.”

Garrus slipped a hand into hers, and without hesitation she laced her fingers through them the same way she had done a thousand times before, squeezing. She leaned into him and he rested his chin on her head with a hum, knowing she appreciated the feel of the vibration.

“We still will. Maybe not like back on the Citadel, but who knows. If there’s anyone who knows how to make a mockery out of overwhelming odds, it’s you. You’ll always be Shepard.”

She pressed her cheek into his neck, inhaling deeply. “I want you to be right. Just going to have to wait and see, I guess.”

“Well, you know _I’m_ not about to let you give up on you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Shepard’s reply was a long pause in coming. “On that note…I…might have known this was a possibility as recently as my last appointment, two weeks ago. I just thought that if I ignored it, didn’t bring it up, barreled through it like I do everything else…”

Garrus squeezed her hand again, and she reciprocated tightly. “You needed time.”

“I should have said something,” she concluded, sounding almost angry at herself. “Like you said, you’re my partner. You’ve been doing so much for me, the least I could do in return is to be open with you.”

It was a light jab to his gut, Solana and his dad coming to mind. The fact that he hadn’t told her yet that his family didn’t know about their relationship glared knowingly at him from a far corner of his mind. He wouldn’t have any ground to feel slighted even if he were inclined to, which he wasn’t.

“It’s _really_ all right,” he assured her. “All I meant before is that I’m always here if you need me. But this is something you’re going through. A lot of it is personal. It’s your call on what you feel up to sharing, or don’t.”

Shepard sat up to look him in the eyes and caress his face. He welcomed the affection gladly. Her voice took on that warm but firm tone that she used only with him, and only when it was serious.

“I trust you more than anyone. And with everything, good or bad. I want to always make sure you know it.”

There went the jab again, but he wasn’t about to shift the focus off her while she was in the middle of opening up to him. He’d get around to telling her before long, and when there wasn’t something else to clutter up the discussion. He pressed his forehead to hers and nuzzled at her.

“I do,” he said. “Now, if you’re ready to head back, I may just have a surprise for you.”

Garrus couldn’t see Shepard’s face at the moment she opened the door, but he could picture it. She took a few steps in and stopped, setting one hand on the nearby kitchen counter as she surveyed the scene.

“Garrus…”

On his way home, Garrus had picked up a few bouquets of roses. Shepard wasn’t a huge fan of cut flowers, but that hadn’t been the intent. He’d done his research, and regardless of how strange and a little wasteful it seemed, he’d plucked them all down to a moderate sized pile of multicolored petals. He’d strewn about half of them in an evenly-spaced manner across the living room, leading to the stairs. Then sprinkled up the stairs, and though she couldn’t see it now, diverging paths to both the bathroom and the bedroom. And that was just for starters.

“I thought about using heat sinks instead of petals, but in the end I figured it would be best to go with the tried-and-true instead of improvising.”

Shepard turned a grin on him that was somewhere between sultry and holding back a laugh.

“Please tell me you’re serious. I _love_ when you improvise.”

“Damn. Well, now I know for next time. Come on.”

He took his mate’s hand and led her upstairs. As he’d hoped, any sign of her previous melancholy had vanished, and her eyes were fixed on him with anticipation. Shepard stopped at the top of the steps, looking first off to the mostly-closed bathroom door, then to the fully closed bedroom door. She started to pull him towards their bedroom, and he resisted with an application of mental effort. The hard part for both of them was going to be taking this slow.

“ _Please_ , Garrus,” she begged him in a near-whisper that threatened to undermine his willpower. His long-postponed libido pointed out that she _had_ asked nicely. He pulled in return, urging her towards the bathroom.

“This’ll be worth it, I promise.”

She growled in frustration, colliding her body into his and wrapping her arms around him with an audible pout. “It _better_ be.”

He pushed the bathroom door open and backed his way into it, pulling her with him. The large tub was an oversized, luxury-style jet tub where Shepard would spend time relaxing at least every other day. Garrus typically declined to join her, since it was considerably harder for him to towel off than it was for her and they had only a handheld dryer besides. He’d filled the tub just before heading out to get her and the heaters had kept it at a nicely steamy temperature in the meantime. More petals floated delicately on the surface, and the tub itself was surrounded by several glowing candles in the dimmed light, reflecting off the water’s surface. Most of these romantic suggestions he’d taken at first had seemed a little odd, but after seeing it all set up, he’d come to appreciate the aesthetic. Especially when picturing a naked Shepard in there. He looked over to her to gauge her own opinions on it. Her expression was a little flat, her eyes wide.

“You left here with _candles_ burning?”

His stomach sank, just a little. “Nowhere near anything flammable. And it’s really humid in here.”

“ _Garrus_.”

“I was careful,” he insisted again, drawing her towards the tub. “And nothing bad happened.”

Shepard looked ready to say something else, but instead closed her eyes and cycled a deep breath through her nose, then smiled at him. “Okay, yeah. It really is very romantic. Just, maybe, light them after we get back next time.”

“Noted,” he agreed, then began helping her with his clothes. Another exercise in restraint. Not only had they not made love in months, but he hadn’t often seen her fully nude in that time, either. And once he was staring down at her fire-lit skin, he was reminded very pointedly exactly why that was. Especially when she slid her hands up along his sides, pressing herself into him, pulling his face to hers so she could kiss him.

“You should come in here with me.”

“Shepard…” he breathed in weak rebuttal. Most of his objections came in the form of thinking ahead a while. To how long it would take him to dry, or whether she’d even give him the time to. Whether he’d be able to resist her or simply give in and end up soaking the bed with bathwater. Not something that would have mattered in the moment, but would be a significant issue that evening when it was time to sleep.

“Please?” she asked, playing idly with one of the fastenings of his tunic until it came loose. She slipped a couple of her fingers under the fabric.

Aaaand there went all of that. After a couple of minutes, his clothes followed.

He had to admit as he lowered himself slowly into the tub, the heat itself was quite nice. If it weren’t for the hassle that came afterward, he could certainly see himself taking advantage of this a lot more often. Combining human and turian amenities into one domicile would be an effort, and one that would happen eventually, but for now he’d settle for this. He reached up for Shepard and helped her as she climbed in with him, wasting no time at all in leaning over him and continuing with how she’d lured him in here in the first place.

One other unexpected benefit of the water was that it was all the easier for his hands to slide over her body, feeling every curve and divot, every scar. Reminders that no one was connected to Shepard quite like he was. Her most trusted confidant, her kindred spirit. Only he knew the places she most liked being touched, or how she arched when he’d nibble at the lower side of her neck, or he way she clung to him desperately even after they were both spent. Shepard slid one knee to either side of his thighs, straddling him, and kept alternating kissing and biting on his neck and the inside of his carapace. It wasn’t long before he was responding physically to her.

“Shepard,” he tried laughing, but was trying to catch his breath. “This was meant to be relaxing. I was going to rub your scalp and everything.”

“I’ve been plenty relaxed,” she said, sinking her fingernails between certain specific plates at his lower back. “Right now, I need _you_.”

Well, this was one solution he hadn’t considered. One of his hands caressed its way diagonally up her back to the opposite shoulder, the other wrapping around her waist. Shepard took care of the rest of the positioning.

“I can do that.”

He almost gasped as she lowered onto him. Not that he’d forgotten what she’d felt like or anything, but there was something to be said about finally being intimate after a long hiatus. Her moans were of pleasure and relief, of eager welcome to the end of the famine. He steadily rose to meet her, though slowly at first, not so much to avoid hurting her as to but so this wouldn’t be over in only a minute or two. He took his time, enjoying tasting her, feeling his fingers deep in her tresses, soaking in every sensation of her.

The water sloshing as their synchronized rhythm increased was a little distracting, but only to a point. As the waves started cresting, nothing else mattered but this. But her. Spirits, but how he’d missed this. The pleasure, yes, but also the connection. The emotional rush of knowing she needed him as badly as he needed her. Completion.

He held her for a while afterward. Maybe minutes or maybe hours; time had ceased meaning anything.


	4. Did I Find You or You Find Me

Garrus groaned as he was awoken far too early in the morning, even for him, by another of Sol’s urgent-marked messages. At first he’d dismissed it, mostly sure it wasn’t actually urgent but rather another of his sister’s methods of making sure he didn’t forget how irritated she was with him. He glanced over to Shepard’s sprawled, snoozing form, lying on her stomach with the blankets bunched over her legs. She’d kindly taken the time after their abbreviated bath to dry him off with her hairdryer before they’d kissed and fondled and fumbled their way back to bed. They hadn’t even gotten around to breaking into the wine he’d picked up, not that he minded. He’d lost count of how many rounds they’d gone after that before finally passing out.

Who was he kidding. It had been five. Well, for her at least, but each time increasingly worth it. They’d had a lot to make up for.

Once Garrus accepted that he wasn’t getting back to sleep anytime soon, he opened the message, swearing an oath of vengeance under his breath.

**S: Dad says we still have a lot to do here so good luck prying him away from that. You’ll have to head this way if you want to do this anytime in the next, I don’t know, several years. No rush. We’ll just, you know, be here. There’s a couple sorta nice places still standing around here we could meet you guys at, so you don’t have to parade whatever poor woman you duped into being your mate through the tents and debris after all.**

Garrus glowered and pulled up they keypad, at the end of his patience and intending to unload a scathing response when Shepard started to shift, muttering something in her sleep. He stopped what he was doing to stroke her hair until she’d fallen back into stillness again. That gave him enough time to put a little thought into how he’d respond.

**G: Not a problem. We’ll be glad to come. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to head out. Also, I’ll be happy to help you dislodge your foot from your mouth when the time comes. Looking forward to seeing you.**

Then he remembered that was a human phrase and a dead giveaway, and begrudgingly deleted that line while filing it away mentally for later.

Garrus spent his early morning hours sopping up the still-wet bathroom floor, happily humming to himself reminiscing on how the evening had taken an unexpected turn, but gone better than he’d hoped. When Shepard’s usual waking time rolled around, he set about making breakfast for her, bringing it up to their room and finding her sitting upright in bed, scrolling through the display from her omnitool. She smiled at him.

“I thought I smelled fiancé breakfast.”

“You thought correctly. Figured you could use the sustenance after last night,” he hummed at her, setting the tray down between them as he also scrolled through newsfeeds on his own omnitool. Shepard had finished her food and was thanking him with the kind of kisses and touching that were coming very close to turning into something else, when she got a message notification. She cursed mildly and sat back, pulling up the display. Then she cursed louder.

Garrus raised his brow plates at her as she rolled her head back and thudded it against the pillows behind her, squeezing her eyes tight and sighing.

“So…I guess my mom’s in town. As in, right now. ‘Just happened to be’ my ass. Wants to know if there’s a good time to come over. I know it’s short notice, so I can deal with her on my lonesome if you’re not up for it just yet.”

“Shepard. Of course I am,” he assured her, taking her hand. Meeting the senior Shepard was something he’d been anticipating for a while. The woman was a highly-ranked, decorated military officer in her own right, had been long before being overshadowed by her daughter’s own impressive achievements. Shepard hadn’t talked about her at length, but there was plenty of information on her to be found through the Earth-local internet.

“I’ve been out of service since the end of the war. Don’t know why she thinks I’d be up at _this_ ungodly hour.”

“Well…you _are_.”

Shepard shot him a betrayed smirk. She started to type out the message, her smile distinctively fading into a faint frown that puzzled Garrus not a little. “All right, I’ll tell her to give us a few hours, give us some time to get ready and everything.”

“Sounds good. Anything I should know to do, or not do?”

“Nothing that comes right to mind,” Shepard replied, rolling out of bed and ambling over to the closet to get decent. “Though she is more, well, _outgoing_ than me, I suppose you could say. Wears her heart on her sleeve.” She caught herself before Garrus could ask her to clarify. “Means, up front with her feelings.”

“Ah. Good to know. Well, then, yeah. Let’s do this.”

Shepard sent the message, then puffed her cheeks and blew a jet of air through pursed lips. “Right. Let’s do this.”

Seeing Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard from a distance as she approached the house, Garrus could easily have mistaken her for her daughter. She was wearing casual clothing rather than a uniform, including a strikingly cheerful bright purple set of hat, mittens, and scarf. An ensemble it was hard to imagine Shepard putting on willingly. As she drew closer, it was a bit like looking into his own future, a pleasant enough prospect. Her well-lined face lit up as they met her on the deck, stretching her arms wide as she approached his mate. Shepard, for her part, gave his hand a brief, tight squeeze as though bracing for impact.

“Honey,” Hannah beamed, wrapping her only child in an embrace that, going by the younger woman’s face and strained breathing, may have been a little uncomfortably tight. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too, mom,” Shepard replied.

The Rear Admiral pulled back, cupping Shepard’s wry face with her hands, just before grinning up at Garrus with her brows raised high.

“And this must be the one and only Garrus Vakarian,” she said with a flourish. He started to extend a hand in a standard human greeting, but she brushed it aside and went right in for a hug. It took him off-guard, leaving him uncertain how much or whether he was supposed to hug back, and sending a desperate nonverbal expression for help to the younger Shepard.

“Mom,” Shepard said, stepping forward to intervene, but Hannah was already releasing him again. Crisis averted. “Turians don’t really-”

“Oh, I know,” Hannah waved a hand at her. “I read up on it. But he’s marrying into a human family, isn’t he? He’ll have to get used to it sooner or later.”

Shepard pressed her face into her hand and muttered a sharp exclamation of _Mom!_ under her breath. Her reaction made Hannah’s mouth curl into a playful smirk that was uncannily identical to the one Garrus was used to seeing on his mate’s face. He cleared his throat and offered Hannah a deep familial head-bow in response, what he calculated was the rough turian equivalent to her sneak-attack embrace. The disparity between the two traditions was striking, even to him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. “Shepard’s…mentioned you.”

He’d realized, halfway through the most inoffensive greeting that he could think of, that for all Shepard had referenced her mother regularly, he couldn’t recall her having divulged any personal information about the woman. The sentiment of ‘told me all about you’ that he’d been going for had come off disingenuous before he’d spoken it, and trying to correct course mid-stream had only made things sound worse. He shifted between his feet self-consciously as Hannah laughed and Shepard sucked in a breath.

“He really just calls you ‘Shepard’?” Hannah asked her daughter with wild amusement. “Or have you just not gotten around to telling him your given name?”

Oh. Oops. Without even having realized it, he was zero for _two_. Great start.

“ _Everyone_ just calls me ‘Shepard,’ Mom,” Shepard replied, only a few minutes in and already exasperated. “As in, the entire galaxy. I’m mononymous. It’s what we’re used to, and I like it. Okay?”

“I think it’s adorable,” Hannah beamed and reached out to squeeze Shepard’s upper arm, smiling up at Garrus again which somehow served to make him feel even more self-conscious. Having her direct attention targeted on him gave the subconscious sense of his every word and action being closely analyzed, no matter how sweet and friendly she seemed. Shepard mumbled something to which Hannah paid no mind.

“I apologize, sometimes my mouth gets ahead of my manners,” Hannah chuckled. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Garrus. Shall we head inside? I’ve been stationed a ways down south, so I’m not used to this cold just yet.”

Though the outdoor temperature was around its daily high, it was still a brisk four degrees, meaning he readily agreed with Shepard’s mother and went to get the door for them. Hannah breezed in past them, shedding her various articles of winter gear as she fawned over the home’s interior. Shepard took the fuzzy cotton items from her and deposited them unceremoniously on the dining room table as she passed.

“Oh, this place is _beautiful_ ,” she said, sinking into the oversized, sable recliner where Garrus preferred to do most of his remote consulting. The seat had been taking on a distinctive indentation in the shape of his carapace. It faced a wall made mostly of enormous picture windows overlooking the mountains. “And the view! Are you thinking of settling down here permanently?”

“No, this is just for while I’m on the mend,” Shepard replied, and though he didn’t disagree with Hannah’s assessment, he was in full accord with his mate on this one. “We haven’t decided where we’re going to settle down, yet, or whether it’s even going to be on Earth.”

Garrus went to the kitchen to get some levo coffee going for the women as they fell into catching up. Occasionally Hannah would call in after him with a question, mostly probing after little details about his own family and what life was like on Palaven. Then what he was doing for work now, which he tried to minimize but Shepard ratted him out for his late nights at the terminal. Despite the wobbly takeoff, the visit was beginning to level out rather nicely. He brought the mugs out once they were ready, setting them on the squat living room table and getting comfortable next to Shepard on the plush sofa.

“Oh,” Hannah’s brows raised, looking down at the mugs. “You don’t happen to have-?”

“I’ll get it,” Shepard heaved herself up. Garrus gently touched her forearm, asking after her with his face. She gestured to the kitchen with her head. “Sugar and half-and-half. Be right back.”

Right. Shepard always took hers black, so it hadn’t occurred to him to fetch any additional ingredients. As she sauntered off, Hannah shifted her focus directly to him again, and he felt like he was standing in an open field without cover.

“The two of you are the loveliest couple,” she said, her voice going soft. Reminiscent. “I always hoped that kid would find her ‘someone’. Reminds me of the first few years her father and I were together, before we were parents. He would have really liked you. He’d have dragged you into trading war stories by now, I just know it.”

There was a silence, and he seemed to be expected to respond even though she hadn’t asked him a question. “Ah, right. Ahem. She’s talked a little about him. His ship went down fighting out in the Skyllian Verge when she was eleven, if I remember right? I’m sure the legacy he left did the Alliance proud.”

“Not just the Alliance,” she smiled, her gaze misty and rueful. “I still miss him as much as I did twenty years ago, but he saved a lot of lives doing what he did. It was the whole reason our daughter became so dead set on enlisting in the first place. She’s always been as daring and stubborn as he was. And then she ended up going and saving the entire galaxy. Though, speaking of legacies,” she shot an almost imperceptibly quick glance to where Shepard was rifling through the well-stocked fridge and grumbling, “I don’t suppose the two of you have any plans for on a family of your own?”

“Oh,” Garrus sat up and rolled his shoulders, finally getting his footing on a normal conversation and feeling more comfortable. “Yeah, probably. We were just talking about that the other day, funnily enough.”

“Talking about what?” Shepard’s suspicious voice carried over as she made her way back with the requested carton. Hannah went right to pouring the white liquid into her coffee, lifting the mug to her lips in a smooth motion. Garrus blinked, feeling like something had just transpired that he’d missed, and Shepard’s face crumpled up into suspicion as she sat back down.

“Garrus?”

“She, ah,” he looked over to Hannah, who was smiling contentedly at her daughter. A bad omen. And though his self-preservation reflex was urging him to sidestep the issue, they’d literally just talked about this openness thing. There was no good option. “Your mother was just asking whether we were thinking about having kids.”

“Please, Garrus. Call me Hannah,” the elder woman insisted.

Shepard’s head spun towards her mother, her mouth falling slightly agape. “ _Mom_. We’ve talked about this. Not okay!”

Hannah’s eyes widened a little, her smile not entirely fading. “Sure. When you told me I wouldn’t know if you were ever going to have kids until you had them. But that was years ago, before Garrus. I was only curious.”

“Oh, I _bet_ ,” Shepard grumbled, snatching up her coffee fast enough that a few streaks of dark, watery brown dripped down the edges. She didn’t seem to notice. Garrus slowly sank his way backward into the plush cushions behind him. Knowing Shepard, his future wife and what he understood the term to be ‘mother-in-law’ may be only just getting warmed up.

“I didn’t think you’d _really_ mind,” Hannah insisted. “I’m interested in your life. I get to hear little enough about you as it is, outside of news networks. You never even called me after you woke up from your coma; I had to find out you were still alive from Alliance brass. There’s being a private person, and then there’s leaving someone in the dark entirely.”

Garrus ran out of room, having failed to completely disappear into the couch. He wondered if it would be a human culture faux pas to excuse himself to the bathroom for the next hour or so.

“We’ve already gone over this, mom,” Shepard was rubbing hard at her forehead. “Can we not do this again? In front of a captive audience, no less.”

“I’m sorry if I overstepped, honey. I truly am, and it won’t happen again. You’re all the family I have left, the last thing I’d want to do is drive you away by trying to keep you closer. I’ve just missed out on so much, and I’ve been hoping that could change now that you’re settling down.”

Shepard’s hand found her mate’s and he held onto it for dear life. He saw his opening, his chance to come to her aid. Why was it easier to do that when there were bullets whizzing past his head?

“Shepard’s been through a lot,” Garrus said, hoping she didn’t mind him interrupting. “The last few years have been one non-stop crisis mode. And I’ve been there for most of it, but even with one another we’re still adjusting to being able to be open about everything. It’ll be nice to be able to live normally again. We’re really looking forward to seeing what a peacetime life looks like.”

Shepard’s tired, grateful smile meant everything. Hannah’s head tilted as she made a very similar expression.

“That’s a beautiful sentiment, Garrus. I hope your own family is just as happy for you two as I am. Will they be coming to the wedding? I’d love to meet them.”

“Oh, I, ah…well.” Garrus stiffened. _Crap_. Not again. He coughed a couple of times, then realized Shepard was staring up at him. Not a normal stare, _The_ Stare. In that flash of an instant, perhaps on the foundation of past context clues, she’d caught on. She _knew_. For a terrible second he was terrified of how she was going to react, fearing that it was all about to play out in front of her mother and be cemented as part of the already lackluster first impression he’d been making. But before he could think, Shepard demonstrated that she could still surprise him.

“We haven’t heard back,” she replied, truthfully, but with a hell of an omission: they couldn’t have heard back on an unasked question. He was saved, for now. “We don’t even know where we’re going to have it yet, so there’s no reason to put pressure on anyone.”

Shepard proceeded to continue deflecting by entertaining the rest of her mother’s inquiries regarding the ceremony with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. She even indulged Hannah’s insistence on paying for Shepard’s wedding dress and asking if they could browse a few online shops together. Garrus judiciously kept his mouth as closed as possible, only speaking when directly addressed. He’d gotten a brief reprieve from the consequences of his actions, but not for long.

“You haven’t _told_ them?” Shepard demanded more in shock than anger once Hannah had all but reached her cab, well out of earshot. Garrus turned away from the front door to face her, deeply contrite.

“To be fair,” Garrus raised his hands defensively. “ _You_ didn’t even tell your mom that you got brought back from the dead.”

“Oh _no_ you don’t,” she pointed a sharp finger towards him. “You don’t get to ‘whatabout’ me. And you know what, whether you told them isn’t even the real problem. What I’d like to know is why this is the first _I’m_ hearing about it.”

Garrus felt his back connect on the waist-high counter that divided the kitchen from the living room. He shifted his eyes, looking away.

“I…don’t really have an excuse for that, Shepard. I’m sorry. I’ve been focused on getting you better, and it just wasn’t on my mind. At least until recently, when we started talking about making things official, and I’ve been meaning to say something but…I’m sorry.”

Shepard fumed a little more as she glared out a side window, but the tension seemed to be gradually seeping out of her form. His heartfelt apology was evidently at least bare-minimum satisfactory. She was clearly still ruffled, but already coming down from the worst of it. Maybe it was her mother’s visit and their own reconciliation, maybe it was being on her second time around getting a new lease on life that helped keep pettier things in perspective. Whatever it was, she slowly sauntered to him and slid a hand over his waist, the over up against the side of his face. But she also leveled a hard stare into his eyes.

“If we’re really going to make a go of this, then this kind of thing doesn’t happen anymore. For either of us. You have a point, we’ve both been less than great at sharing things with people we care about. But with each other, we don’t have the luxury of a grace period for that.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he put a hand over hers and leaned his forehead down until they touched. In the spirit of remedying things that he’d historically struggled with, he murmured, “I love you, Shepard.”

“I love you too,” she pressed firmer into him and sighed. “You know, for such a smart guy, you sure can be oblivious at times.”

He chuckled. “No argument. And for the bravest woman I know, you pick the strangest times to be conflict-avoidant.”

She huffed a laugh and curled up into his welcoming arms. “We make a real pair, don’t we?”

“The best,” he mused contentedly into the crown of her head, then paused. “So. This is probably the right time to mention that my sister recently found out about this all on her own, is very upset with me, and has begrudgingly invited us to Palaven to meet up?”

“That…” Shepard pulled back, her face twisting into a few consecutive looks ranging from surprise to bemusement and finally settling on wry humor. “…would be exactly the right time, yeah. How did she find out?”

“The aforementioned obliviousness on my part, mostly. I kind of forgot that the application we sent in was a semi-public record and, well, you can guess the rest. At any rate, we can head over whenever you want, or wait a while. Whichever you’re prefer.”

There was a serene silence in which they simply held on to one another. A quietly profound act of affection, something they’d developed a habit of doing at any given opportunity. An artifact of the echoes of what they’d almost lost.

“Tomorrow.”

Garrus blinked, brow plates raising sharply. “…Really?”

“Okay, well, we should probably give them a heads-up, first. And take care of any loose ends around here. But yeah. Let’s plan on getting everything ready to go, starting tomorrow.”

It was then Garrus realized the way he was feeling now reminded him of Shepard’s strange initial reaction to her mother coming over. Discomfort, uncertainty, anxiety. But while that meeting had had its bumps, he was reasonably confident that he had more justification to feel uneasy at the thought of finally facing this inevitability. Hannah at least had been inclined to like him from the start.

“All right, then. We’ll start getting ready first thing tomorrow.”

Shepard smirked at him, fingertips playing at his chin. “What are the odds your sister makes a go at kicking your ass?”

Garrus mulled on that, tilting his head one way then the other. “Somewhere between ‘most likely’ and ‘yes.’”


End file.
